I Dream of Downton
by That'sLadySeaMonsterToYou
Summary: Matthew and Mary dream of the tale of Andromeda and Perseus.  But can the damsel be saved in real life?  Unfortunately, my name not being Julian Fellowes, I do not own Downton Abbey, nor do I own the Greek Myth referenced :
1. In which he dreams and she falls ill

Hello there!

I'm **Lady Sea Monster**, and this is the first chapter to what I hope will prove to be a pretty interesting and entertaining story. I love Downton Abbey and Matthew and Mary and the new ideas surrounding the Perseus and Andromeda myth and how it applies to Season 2, so there will be a lot of spoilers in these pages :)

Reviews are immensely encouraged! They'll keep me writing!

So, without any further ado, here we are. Because, of course, rambling is terribly middle class.

Enjoy!

-Lady SM

She awoke with a slow rumbling rush in her ears, a pounding head and a numb feeling throughout every muscle of her body. She found herself in a limp, upright position, but could not think of a reason as to why. With a weak attempt to move her hands to her head, she realized she was restrained by a pair rusting manacles cutting into her wrists when she moved; but attaching her to what, she did not know. Oh how her temples throbbed; she couldn't bear to figure it any further. She let her heavy head hang back down to the position it had been when she first opened her swollen eyes, her chin to her chest. Suddenly the wind picked up around her and the whipping rush sent a tremble through her body and whipped her long dark hair across her face. Her eyes open as much as she could muster, which proved to be only slits due to the violent gusts around her, she didn't recognize her surroundings. Tears began to fall down her cheeks, uncontrollably. The sound that had begun as a low rumble crescendoed into the angry roar of the ocean.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the vision began to fade. The beholder of the vision found himself once again in his familiar bed, away from cliffs and roaring waves and vicious winds and beautiful, trembling maidens, left only with a slight feeling of dread he had become accustomed to whenever he thought of her. He blinked and closed his eyes in deep thought.

Matthew blinked again. He had to save her.

Mary sought peace in the library in the early hours of the day, her favorite book of Greek Myths lying on her lap, herself seated on the cushions underneath the window, her eyes closed as the sun shined through across her face and shoulders.

Despite the sun's friendly rays, her skin was cold; despite the quiet, her mind could not focus and her thoughts were scattered. Through all the turmoil under the surface, her face stayed expressionless, blank, numb.

She had felt slightly ill upon waking, but, as usual, she ignored it, assuming it to be the weight of her relationship with Carlisle. Just yesterday he demanded to set a date for the wedding at dinner. Getting through breakfast, however, proved to be more than a chore than she thought it would be, and so she shut herself away in the library, hoping not the be disturbed.

There was movement about the house, some new drama that she was sure she would be called into shortly but she could not bring herself to think on it just yet.

So much was out of her control. She felt trapped, so trapped.

As if on cue, Carson entered, and with a slight bow, said, "Her Ladyship requests your presents in the main hall, Milady."

Lady Mary looked up from her window and smiled weakly at the kind butler.

"Thank you, Carson." She said and stood up. Suddenly her stomach lurched and she felt a huge rush to her head. The unsettling feeling was coupled with nausea that caused a hand to fly to her head and the other to grasp onto the bookshelf nearby to steady herself. Carson rushed over to her.

"Lady Mary, are you quite well?" Asked the butler in a concerned voice, offering his arm out to her for support. She took his arm and leaned forward, but shook her head.

"Oh, Carson, I'm sure I'm perfectly all r-" She began, trying to minimize the damage of Carson seeing her weakness. "Oh, dear!" She exclaimed as a new wave of pain rushed to her head.

"You are by no means all right. Come, up to your room. You need rest." He took her and steadied her. He then began to slowly lead her out of the room, speaking to her in a low, comforting voice. "I'll tell the others. And in a way as to not to worry her Ladyship." In almost a whisper he added to her, "We both know you have far too much to deal with besides."

She smiled gratefully, leaning on his arm, trying to prevent another embarrassing outburst, happy that it was only Carson who had witnessed it.

"Thank you, Carson. You always know how to take care of me whenever I take ill."

"It's a charge I've taken readily for quite a long time, Milady." A slight smile came to his lips, but it was quickly replaced by a look of concern. "But you rarely readily accept it. As soon as you're in your room I'll call for Dr. Clarkson."

Once she was changed into a light gown, tucked into her bed and waited on by Anna, she awaited the arrival of the Doctor. She requested her family leave her alone for the moment, sure she would regain health if she were just to have a moment to herself, which got her a disapproving look from Carson who stood by the door. Once the door was closed shut behind the last of her concerned family members, she inhaled deeply and gave into the heavy weight of her eyelids and succumbed to an interesting state of being barely asleep. She immediately felt a shift and let go even further of her troubles, releasing the tension in her neck.

After a few moments of being unsure of whether she was in fact awake or asleep, her form began to twist and turn restlessly under her covers. Her breathing became ragged and unsteady. The movements became more and more violent, as if she was trying to escape some sort of internal pain. As she writhed, the sheets became entangled around her legs, exposing her violently rising and falling chest.

Then, as soon as it seemed she was about to cry out, she stilled. Her convulsing body sank into the down comforter which was in a mess about her now. She sighed deeply and the stress began to vanish from her brow. So much had been demanded of her body as of late, and her muscles seemed to relax gradually, her head falling to one side. Her breathing finally returning to normal, she was lost in a deep sleep.

The only thing about her not completely at peace was her eyes, which could be seen rapidly moving under her eyelids.


	2. In Which Nothing is Made Clear

_Before you go on, I'd like to thank you so much for reading this. It makes me so happy that I can share this with people like you! _

_Haha! I have no midterms so I'm actually finding time to write this. Well, I do have a college audition coming up for a really good Acting Conservatory Program, so I might have to miss a day or two. But for this reason, a next chapter might be posted tonight. I'll try my best!_

_Love,_

_Lady Sea Monster_

_PS: This picks up right where we left off…_

…

She felt a delightful weightless sensation come over her. Sighing in relief, relaxing even further, she felt her body being lifted by an unseen force up above her bed. Then one by one, elements of her bedroom began to disappear. Her lamp on the table with the fringed shade faded away, the dim light it cast becoming barely visible, her paintings of ladies in high fashion danced away from her view, her mirrors reflecting a silvery swirling mist before disappearing as well. She felt herself rising until she was surrounded by nothingness. Her room was gone. Her bed was gone.

Mary was at peace.

At peace until an odd fear arose within her. Her fingertips then began to tingle, and the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up. Her eyes flew open, and as soon as they did she was rushed out of this feeling of bliss and contentment that she had not felt in so long, and thrown into darkness.

Her body still limp she could not control it, she found herself still floating, in a horizontal position, toes together, arms outstretched, hair hanging down away from her, Somehow it had released itself from the braided bun Anna had constructed so well that morning. It was now a waterfall of shining chestnut locks, smooth and shiny, lightly blowing in the soft wind around her. Her dress, a light cream colored piece, was draped across her body, flowing down below her, also blowing in the light breeze.

Despite the darkness that now surrounded her, she still felt strangely at peace. She realized she had no control over anything happening besides the way she dealt with it, and she could not even bring herself to consider the options of how to go about facing this with a proper air in her weak state.

Then she heard a voice.

"Hello, my Darling." It hissed. The voice sent shivers down her spine, but she knew it well.

…

He was sitting in the study at Crawley house shortly after breakfast, trying to remember as much of his strange dream as possible when he heard her. His mother had noticed his distraction and questioned it, but he deflected her inquiries. Isobel knew she would find out whatever it was soon enough, so she did not pry. He then locked himself away in the study to think upon the feelings and resoluteness he had woken up with.

All he knew was he had to save her, the beautiful girl chained to the rock. He had to stop her tears.

It was amidst such strange thoughts as these when he heard her call to him.

A rushing sound filled his ears, not unlike how the dream had begun. He rubbed at his ear absentmindedly, but it grew louder. It was then joined by a voice.

"Matthew…" It said, barely in a whisper.

Matthew looked up sharply from the papers he had been pretending to look over on his desk and looked about the room. He had thought her had heard…her.

"Is someone-"He began, but it came again, and this time louder.

"Matthew, c-come to me."

The eerie, echoing voice, it seemed, was both very far away yet speaking in his ear. It was soft, as if carried to him by the wind, but still urgent. The he heard her slightly cry out.

He leapt to his feet.

But despite the straightforwardness of its request, he hesitated.

"I n-need you.."

The keeper of the voice was in obvious distress, but Matthew did not know what to do. As he wondered about the strange occurrence, the rushing began to die down, but did not cease, leaving Matthew sitting straight up and very tense in his chair, papers in his hand, with a strange look on his face.

Suddenly he threw the papers down and made his way to the door, grabbing his coat and hat and throwing them over his arm, the expression never leaving his face.

Ribbing his ear, he started up to Downton Abbey, wondering what he was to do.

…

Matthew walked up the gravel pathway to the towering front door of the Abbey. He had noticed the car parked in the main entrance, the chauffer leaning against it.

Matthew raised a hand to him which was returned by a slight bowing of the head and a "How do you do, Mr. Crawley."

"I'm quite well, thank you, Branson." He added with a smile, "Tell me, is there anything happening I should know about inside, anything I might have to—prepare myself for?"

The smile was mirrored on the chauffer's face. They had both had to deal with drama within the walls of the big house. Never a dull moment, indeed.

"Well, Sir, Lady Mary had a turn this morning, I hear. I was called to drive over the Doctor. There was some more this morning, but I only know what I'm involved in." _"Which, even then, is sometimes too much."_ Branson thought to himself.

The rushing in Matthew's ears rose suddenly, but he paid it no mind and it soon returned to the distant rumble.

"Yes, of course. Thank you very much." A concerned look crossed his brow.

"And good luck to you. " Branson added in farewell and Matthew went up to ring the bell.

Carson greeted him.

"Good morning, Mister Crawley." Boomed his deep, friendly voice, inviting him inside. "Are you here on business with his Lordship?"

"Uh, well, no, Carson. I was hoping to see Lady Mary, but I heard that she's seeing Dr. Clarkson. Is it anything serious?"

"The Doctor only just arrived, so we cannot be sure." But upon seeing his face fall he added, "Many things have been demanded of her as of late, Milord, I wouldn't think it too soon to assume it's simply exhaustion." Smiling when he saw the heir's face regain some of its brightness.

"I'd like to go up and see her if that's all right, then."

"Very good, Milord." And bowed slightly, and watched him make his way towards the main staircase. He hoped his presence would not agitate Mary further. She had shown no previous signs that he caused her any discomfort, but Carson knew, of all people, that with his Lady Mary, things were not always as they seemed.

He started up the steps. The rumbling followed.

…

Matthew reached the landing where Mary's room was situated and met Cousin Robert on his way down.

"Good Morning, Lord Grantham." Matthew said.

"Matthew!" He replied. So good to see you. I wish it was under slightly different circumstances."

"As do I, Sir, but I'm sure it's not too bad. Has she looked unwell since my last visit here?

"I daresay no. She was a little distracted at breakfast, though, and I'm told she almost passed out in the library. Clarkson says it doesn't look serious. He's in there with the girls now."

"And Sir Richard, I presume?" Matthew added, a twinge of bitterness entering his voice, although his face stayed neutral and pleasant. The same could not be said for Lord Grantham.

"No." A slight scowl passing his features. "No, Sir Richard had some important matters to discuss with some people in town surrounding Haxby."

Matthew shared the disgust he heard in Lord Grantham's voice when he mentioned the estate. _"So," _he thought, _"He's not here to tend to his sick fiancé. How noble." _But keeping his sarcasm private, he added, aloud. "There must be quite a lot to take care of surrounding the estate." The sound in his ears rose to an almost unbearable volume. He brushed at his ears, trying to hide his ailment from his cousin.

"Too much to take some time out to comfort my sick daughter, surely." He said, bitterness coating each word. With company he had tried to be optimistic about his daughter's fiancé, but this was too much. The man had noticed how Mary had looked at breakfast, only commenting that she looked "a fright" and said no more of it, rushing off into town.

"Well, I'm just on my way to go look after her." This caused a smile to soften Grantham's harsh expression.

"Thank you, Matthew. It's wonderful, you being here for her, through all this—he stopped, not wanting to give away what he could see of Mary's feelings on the situation.

"I'm sure I understand, Lord Grantham. Thank you. Might I stay for tea?"

"You are always welcome, my boy."

"Thank you, sir."

And with that, they parted. Matthew went up the rest of the stairs and turned down the hallway to Mary's room rubbing his ear violently, the sound never leaving. He caught Dr. Clarkson as he was shutting the door gently behind him.

"Oh, hello, Matthew." Said the Doctor.

"Hello, sir. How is she?" He asked.

"Well, I feel that rest is all she needs. I would blame pure exhaustion for her turn this morning. But I told Anna that someone should check on her every now and then and if anything develops, that I should be made aware immediately. Distress upon the body can leave it weak and susceptible to other ailments. We can only hope she can fight them off."

"Can I speak with her?"

"She has been asleep for quite a while, and I do say that is best. She may feel quite groggy upon waking, but if she stays the way she is now, she will be fine."

"Thank you, sir." He said, and went inside.

There Mary lay on her bed, sheets tucked lightly around her. Her hair splayed out across the pillows, her arms loosely configured, one across her stomach, one resting towards the edge of the bed. "_She looks very peaceful_," Matthew thought. _"More at peace than I think I've ever seen her."_

Her face, usually the epitome of coolness and collectiveness, seemed strangely candid and raw. A faint smile passed her lips.

He realized when he looked upon that face that all of his transactions that day had been almost automatic; he was not completely there in any of the conversations. He suddenly remembered his reason for coming. The voice. Her voice.

He suddenly remembered the rushing in his ears. It got louder and louder still.

He tried to ignore it by pulling over a chair next to her bed and sitting down.

"Mary, I had such a strange dream last night—" He began softly…

Then he heard her call to him again. A voice, her voice, he was sure of it, carried to him by a gentle wind.

"Matthew, I n-need you…here"

Matthew studied Mary's sleeping face and noticed her eyes. Spellbound by her dreaming eyes, he watched their restlessness. The rushing in his ears became the only thing he could hear as he became hypnotized by their rhythmic moving under her eyelids. As he watched, his own eyelids began to droop. He reached an arm limply out to her, feeling his body weaken.

He fell unconscious, his head falling onto the arm resting on her bed, his body leaning towards her in his chair.

There they stayed, both in deep sleep. Their breathing syncing together, their outstretched arms leaving their hands inches away from each other. Their busy minds finally at rest, they found their imaginations take them away, away.

…

_Well, there we have it. _

_Now, I know not much really happened in this one, so I'll see what I can do in terms of action in the next few chapters. _

_But don't let that stop you from…reviewing!_

_-Lady SM_


	3. In Which He Flies and She Cries

_Here is the promised Chapter 3. _

_And stuff actually happens in this one :)_

_Now I must admit that I might not update in the next few days because I have to prepare for an audition for a highly acclaimed Acting Conservatory Program for College next year on Saturday. And I am slightly freaking out because I just finished a run of musicals and I had a lead part so I didn't have much time to…but this isn't the time to complain. Just letting you know there might not be any more chapters until sometime early next week. _

_Enjoy,_

_Lady SM_

_PS: Wish me luck at my audition! It would be greatly appreciated!_

…

Matthew opened his eyes. He blinked. Where was he? He heard the rumble that had not left him since the morning, but it was different now, distant. He heard the crash of waves upon rocky shores and knew he was close to the ocean.

He stretched his sore back and found himself lying down on a slimy, hard surface. He was clothed in only light, cotton, off-white colored pants that he was sure he didn't own a pair of. Bare chested and bare foot, he attempted to sit up and felt a sharp pain come to his head but ignored it. He noticed a cloth underneath him, shrugged and threw it on. It turned out to be a sort of tunic, same off-white coloring of the pants. The front of the top fell open, and he found it very comfortable attire.

He stood up slowly and looked around at the shadowy darkness he found himself in. A cave. He was in a slimy, dark, mildew-ridden cave. Light poured in from a small opening some ways up. He would have to climb. He walked up to and faced the slick, smelly, rocky wall.

"_I hope I don't smell like mildew when I reach her" _He thought absent mindedly and smiled when he realized how unimportant impressing Lady Mary was at this point. His smile vanished. He had seen her torture. He had seen her imprisoned, crying out to him for salvation.

He placed his hands and feet on the rocks, preparing to climb. He hoisted himself up, but slipped and came crashing down onto the floor of the cave. He tried again, to no avail.

"_What a fine rescue this is turning out to be."_ He imagined Mary looking down her nose at him, arms crossed. Such scolding he was accustomed to receiving from her. _"Really Matthew." _ She added with a elegant shake of her head in disappointment. He smiled. That was what he was fighting for. His Mary. He stepped down and studied the steep wall. What to do?

He felt a chill creep up his damp arms. A wind began to pick up around him, how, he did not know. It was followed by a voice, but not hers.

"Well, good day to you, sir." Came a voice from the darkness.

Matthew spun around, squinting and searching the shadows for any sign of movements. He had been sure he was quite alone. He saw nothing.

"What's a nice young man like you doing in a place like this?"

Though it had startled him it was not a cruel voice. It was polite, warm even, but Matthew sensed there was more to the speaker than the pleasantries revealed. He had dealt with too many members of upper class English society to believe all those who speak kindly were, in fact kind.

After he got over the shock, he turned back to the rocks, attempting to find better footing. He did not recognize the voice, and had his priorities.

"Well," Matthew responded good-naturedly, "I'm trying to leave, by the look of things." He grabbed at a few slightly protruding rocks of the structure.

"Indeed." The voice quipped. "And after that?"

Matthew paused only for a moment. "Well, I don't know. I have to find her. Then I'll…"

"Yes," The voice encouraged.

"Then I'll save her." He said, and strong determined air came to him for a moment. Then he slid off of the rocks and onto the floor once more.

"Oh how valiant." The voice said, and Matthew neither knew nor cared whether the bit of sarcasm he thought he picked up was in fact there in the response.

There was silence for a few moments, and Matthew tried again and again at mounting the wall, with continued failure.

There was silence for a few moments, and Matthew tried again and again at mounting the wall, with continued failure.

"If you don't mind me offering a bit of assistance, sir…" The voice seemed to be slightly amused at his situation.

Matthew turned away from the offending wall and found himself looking at a pair of sandals on the floor a few steps in front of him. He walked over to them and admired their gleaming in the dim light. Coming closer he picked them up and inspected them in his hand. The silver material shone slightly green in the light coming in through the hole in the top of the cave. He saw there was a pair of small wings on both ankles.

"Very interesting detail in the design, don't you think?" Matthew asked the voice.

"The owner of those shoes masters the element of air and flight. If nothing else I hope they'll get you out of this miserable cave, now won't they?"

"Why would you help me?"

"I'm somewhat of a romantic, my dear boy." It sounded as if the voice was chuckling to itself, it was barely audible but Matthew heard it. He turned and looked around, meeting only the empty cave walls.

"I'm sorry I didn't get your name…"

"Goodbye, boy"

And with the final questionable farewell, he heard no more of the strange voice.

Matthew held the lightweight shoes in his hand for a moment more before making up his mind. He lowered himself to the floor and strapped them on. Standing, he did not feel any different. Skeptically, he experimentally jumped about a foot or two in the air. Nothing happened, and Matthew sighed deeply, feeling defeated. Then he thought of what Mary would say if she knew how quickly he had given up on her.

Then, replacing his hands upon spaces on the wall he hoisted himself up and found a balance. He got a bit higher up this time, and admitted to himself feeling a bit lighter and glanced down at the shoes. But in doing this, he slipped once again, and shut his eyes in anticipation of a rougher landing than those before.

But did not hit the ground. He opened his eyes and what he saw began to renew his confidence in the strange voice and its promises.

He found himself hovering a few inches above the ground! A big, accomplished smile danced across his face as he warily straightened his body into an upright, standing position. He closed his eyes, raised his chin to face the small cave opening so far away, and focused all his might on finding himself there when he opened his eyes.

He felt a sudden rush of air around him and felt his feet lower down onto a ledge beyond the mouth of the cave. He had done it!

When he opened his eyes he was almost blinded by the reflection of the sun off the brilliant blue waves of the turbulent ocean below him. On his rocky ledge he searched the horizon for a glimpse of the woman and the rock. He did not see anything save the endless ocean that seemed to taunt him with each wave and movement. Did he really think it would be that easy? Fly out of the cave to see her waiting for him? He was being foolish. He hung his head and felt the pain set in of all of his attempts of scaling the rock wall. His back ached. His legs hurt. His arms were weak. His whole body was fatigued.

"Matthew…"

He heard her call again, and he lifted his head to search for a source, but all that greeted him was a sweet wind caressing his face providing a lovely switch from the salty sea air he had been surrounded with when he first exited the cave. Matthew breathed deeply.

"Matthew, don't give up…" She said to him softly, gently, encouraging.

He looked down at the sandals on his feet and the mere remembrance of their presence created lightness in his arms and legs. His muscles were again active and overcame their fatigue. Matthew lifted into the air and followed the sweet, gentle breeze over the roaring waves.

…

Mary had been lulled into a groggy sleep by the sound of the crashing waves below. Upon waking, she found herself still held prisoner on the monstrous rock foundation she was chained to. Her wrists were sore beyond belief, and the winds ripped at the little bit of dress that still covered her, but she could only think of the vision she had woken from.

"_It had been such a strange dream" _she thought to herself. Matthew trying to comfort her, their hands inches apart, just about to…then she had woken up, alone once more. This was her punishment, her prison. She could not have the hope of salvation now. No hope of happiness.

The winds died down. They had been raging up and dying down for a while now, following a system where as soon as she felt the least bit safe thy would increase and rip off another shred of her once beautiful dressing gown of pull at her hair or dry her eyes so crying was not even possible.

So when they died down and remained dormant for a period of time, she was startled.

She chanced to look up and around at the terrifying sight of being surrounded by angry waters licking up at you, the spray sometimes splashing her bare, legs exposed from her tattered skirt by the rushing air around her, the salt water stinging the few scratches she has received by being thrown back into the sharp rock she was chained to by the violent winds. When she looked up she saw the waves had taken on a light swaying motion, as if they were too tired to continue their wrath and were deciding to take a break for a moment or two. She caught a whiff of a sweet gentle breeze that had come to replace the salty wind.

But she still did not have any hope. "_Some new form of punishment, surely." _She thought cryptically to herself, and tried to replace the relief with a posture and expression fit for facing the worst he had to throw at her but she could not bring herself to rise to the occasion. She was too weak. Despite her plight, she knew she was inevitably his prisoner, and of her own doing, but she would not succumb to surrender. Every bit of her ached for release from the uncomfortable position and location, but she tried her best to look reassured, and hoped the actual feelings would follow.

She could not create the cool façade that protected her so well. She was broken. She had to accept such a cruel fate.

That's when she felt the presence of another. Who, she could not tell, but raised her eyes and through silver mist she saw a form being carried in her direction by the gentle wind that played about her hair and rags of dress now. As he got closer and closer Mary realized…

"Matthew…"

Hope began to bubble up within her. Then the clouds reappeared and blocked her view. The doubt set in. No, of course this was not Matthew. This was some sort of apparition. She must be imagining…No, she was sure it was him. But could it be…

So many thoughts wanted to race through her head, and she did not have the energy to finish any of them. _"You're beyond saving,"_ she reminded herself. And she added sadly, _"And he has no reason to besides."_

In sadness of reality she let her head go limp for a moment, but when she lifted it, Matthew was coming even closer.

She could not believe her eyes.

…

As Matthew flew upon the winds, he rested his tired muscles. The falls from the side of the cliff had taken their tolls on him. He drifted into a light sleep. He was awakened, by what he did not know, and when he opened his eyes he could see a tower of dark grey rock with a slivery fog surrounding it like a serpent. Vicious waves tore at the cliff.

As he raised his hand to his brow to look closer, for this was where the wind was taking him, the mist cleared slightly, and began to die down. He saw a ledge jut out that had been hidden from view by the glittering fog. And upon that ledge—oh, his heart gave a leap inside his chest—was the form of a limp woman, held up into a standing position only by her wrists, bound to the unrelenting looming structure.

She slowly looked up, and saw him. He smiled and, dismounting the breeze, his feet touched down leaving a few feet between them.

"Matth—" She began, but couldn't find the strength.

Matthew looked down at the pitiful sight before him. Mary, the strong, stubborn warrior that he had come to know so well, that he had come to love, was as limp as a ragdoll. The sight of her, wind beaten and wave whipped made him want to cry. He took a step towards her and took her face in his hands. He wanted to kiss all of the torture she had experienced away and soothe every bit of her body. He looked into her eyes, large, dark, scared, and realized that he wanted her to be out of harm's way and safe first. He compromised by placing a soft, slow, gentle kiss on her forehead. He pulled away and stroked her tearstained cheek as she snuggled into his hand the best she could.

Matthew leaned in and whispered into her tangled hair, "I will save you."

She tried to lean into him but the restrictions about her wrists tightened as she did so and she cried out. Matthew came away from her and inspected the rusting manacles cutting into her skin.

Her tears came then, and fell shamelessly and uncontrollably as Matthew picked up a sharp rock and began sawing away at the chains.

He looked up at her. "You didn't think I could just stand by and watch as you threw your life away, did you?"

She could not respond. She could only watch, openmouthed, in pure shock, still breathless from the realization that he was actually here. He turned back to his work.

"You deserve so much better, Mary." He continued, "So much better than him."

He kneeled down in front of her, feeling her tears fall onto his back. He saw the red marks the manacles were leaving on her wrists, blisters and cuts.

"Why?" She managed to ask,

He stopped sawing away at the rusting chain and stood up to face her. He looked into her eyes and said seriously and matter-of-factly:

"Because I love you." Then he grinned at her. "I suppose I always have."

Although she could not bring herself to answer or react, her happiness of the statement showed in her eyes, a bit of the life returning to them. Matthew was overjoyed to see a faint sparkle replacing the dull gloss of the deep chestnut orbs gazing at him.

He knelt back down to work at the chains. This new knowledge made Mary begin to regain some of her strength.

"How?" She whispered, glancing about them. "How did you—"

"Well, I woke up in a cave, but heard a voice and it gave me these shoes," He gestured at his feet, "That make me be able to fly. It's all quite fun, actually."

A troubled look passed Mary's features.

"A voice?" She asked, warily.

"yes, a rather kind one though. I don't' think it's anything to worry about, my dear."

"Let me see the shoes." She demanded abruptly.

"All right." He pulled up his trouser leg slightly and showed her the sandals that shone brilliantly in the harsh sunlight. The hints of green were more visible now, and their beauty surprised him.

Although missed by Matthew, who was admiring the things adorning his feet, Mary's happiness seemed to disappear, distress taking its place, but when Matthew looked up, she smiled, hiding the doubt that was there just a moment ago.

He smiled back and went back to the chains.

"Matthew, I feel that you're in danger—" She began hurriedly, but was interrupted by a fresh gust of terrible wind that picked up Matthew and tore him away from the ledge. He reached out for the rock, alarmed, but could not stop himself from being pulled by an unseen force to be caught in the air, away from the rock, suspended over the roaring waves that had returned.

"Matthew!" Mary cried, pulling at her chains with all her might, but they would not yield. If anything she felt them tighten.

"Mary!"

"Don't do this!" Mary screamed, it seemed, to no one in particular. A look of confusion crossed Matthew's face and then he felt his feet bare again and gravity return. And Mary could do was dropped from the height he was being held at, and disappear into the waves.

"NO!" A sound of pure sadness escaped her lips. The tears returned, the winds returned, the waves returned, but she could not hear any of it.

…

"—An OUTRAGE!"

Matthew woke to the sounds of violent yelling. He opened his eyes and searched for the rock and the waves and the woman, but was only faced with the sight of Lady Mary asleep on her bed, her hand a few inches away from his own. He sat up slowly, with an aching head, and turned in his chair to witness Cousin Robert and Sir Carlisle in a horribly loud yelling match on the other side of the room.

As he sat up Carlisle turned to him.

"I suppose you think it's all in good fun, don't you?" He practically spat in Matthew's face, "To play with the feelings of a woman engaged? We all know you don't mean anything by it? Let her go!"

"How dare you!" Lord Grantham declared from the other side of the room.

Matthew, still shaken by the untimely ending of the dream, stood up to his full height, placing him almost eye to eye with the angry man.

"Sir Richard, I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about. If it is in reference to the fact that I felt it a good idea to comfort a sick friend whilst her fiancé was preoccupied by business matters, I see nothing wrong."

Carlisle's cheeks turned a shade of deep purple and as he opened his mouth to respond, Matthew cut him off saying:

"Now if you would like to finish this conversation, I suggest we at least take it out into the hall so as to not disturb Mary while she is asleep."

Grantham smiled slightly and agreed.

"The boy is quite right. I'm surprised we haven't woken her up already. I'll be going. Matthew, if this conversation does indeed continue, please let me know if you are in need of a moderator."

"Thank you Lord Grantham, but I believe there is nothing more to be said. Sir Richard?"

The unflattering color had spread to his neck and his ears.

"I will stay with Mary. You two shall do as you please." And he turned and sat in the chair Matthew had recently vacated.

Matthew walked past Lord Grantham and out of the door, furious at the wretched man's behavior.

…

She was all alone again, but her visitor had rekindled her energy.

She lowered her head, let her hair fall and hide her face, and waited. She did not raise her head when a faint rustling somewhere below her became louder and louder as sharp claws scraped the rock wall in climbing, causing little pieces of the structure to fall away into the waves below.

A huge sea serpent rose its head to circle around and hover in front of Mary, eyeing the girl hungrily and admiringly. It's huge body snaking around the cliff below, claws digging into the rock face for support. Water dripped off its slimy back into the waiting sea below. It's scales, dark green with hints of silver, shone blindingly in the sun.

"Whatever'sss the matter, my dear?" It asked in an ominous voice, hissing and spitting as the great beast formed the words. Its open mouth revealed sharp, jagged teeth.

Mary raised her head defiantly and addressed the giant monster.

"You didn't have to give him those shoes. It was very low of you."

"Low, my darling? Low is not telling him hiss flying shoesss were not an asssset."

"I did tell him—"

"Not immediately." She lowered her head. "Oh, let'ss not fool ourselvesss, it'ss unbecoming, my dear." Hissed the thing venomously. "You didn't want to admit you are here by your own doing just as much as my own."

"I hate you!" Mary screamed at the beast, which flinched only slightly.

It lowered its giant head so that its shining red eye could meet Mary's.

"Oh, my dear, I think we both know you don't mean that, now do you." And it slithered back into the bubbling ocean, leaving Mary all alone once more.

…

_Yes, that super long chapter is how I'll leave you. For now!_

_Hope you liked it. Please review. I know this is a weird take on Downton Abbey, but I've read weirder. There's actually a funny crossover involving Sherlock Holmes I read the other day. Very, very funny, that one. It's called The Femme Fatale, written by, EOlivet. If you have time, check it out :) _

_Please review! Any requests and suggestions are awesome!_

_-Lady SM_


	4. In Which He Sees Red

_Hello there, my Darlings!_

_Auditions are over and done with, and I just finished a run of shows, so I'm free to get back to freaking you all out with my weird story here :)_

_The following, again, picks up right where we left off, so it may be a good idea to quickly refresh your memories because I haven't written in a few days. _

_Sincerely hope you enjoy!_

_-Lady SM_

Matthew thankfully noticed the change in temperature out in the hall. It was cooler out here, away from the two men, but his face and neck still burned from fighting to keep a civil temperament with the frustrating man who now sat beside Mary. He had done it for her. He knew Sir Richard would have insisted on being left alone with her, and the only thing keeping Matthew from defying him and remaining was that he knew Mary didn't need any unnecessary tension around her. He had tried to diffuse Richard as best he could before leaving them together. Richard's scathing nature would make it unpleasant enough and his own presence would only harsh the mood in the room further.

He tugged at his collar. He was still burning up and walked a little unsteadily towards the staircase. A hand on the railing, he guided himself down and sped up a bit when he heard Mary's doorknob turn and Lord Grantham's soft steps in the hall.

Matthew reached the ground floor and looked up around him. Gorgeous architecture and expensive furnishings honored every inch of the place. Everything was silent in the main hall, the vacant eyes of portraits on the walls stared back at him. Downton Abbey, it occurred to him, was a masterpiece of an estate, and at the same time, despite its cold beauty, it was a cruel prison for her. He felt his head spin. He heard some rustling from a nearby room, and to avoid being sucked into the latest Downton drama, he snuck into the library and closed the door.

Mrs. O'Brien stood in the doorway of an adjacent room to the middle entranceway, watching Matthew flee. She felt there was something very off happening at Downton, more than usual. She had woken up that morning with a feeling that something was going to happen, what, she did not know. She was a complex woman, not eager to trust anything but her intuition, and it was telling her to keep her wits about her in recent events. God knew she was good on picking up bits of info all over, but today, she had heightened her awareness.

She had heard of Lady Mary's collapse this morning, and had witnessed the arrival of Mister Matthew earlier that day through a window of the house and had noticed something strange about him. A sense of determination that she hadn't seen for a long time. With a faint smile playing about her lips she thought to herself that things were about the happen at Downton Abbey. She turned, stack of towels still in hand, excited to find Thomas and tell him to look out for anything suspicious. Raising her head, she found herself face to face with Mrs. Hughes.

"And what are you smiling about?" She asked with a suspicious glint in her eye.

"Nothing at all, Mrs. Hughes." O'Brien mumbled as the smile dropped from her face and she hurried away.

Mrs. Hughes let her go, then glanced out of the doorway she was been glancing out. She shook her head and closed the door behind her as she turned away.

He anxiously paced rather quickly around the room, happy that he was alone. He did not like the strange condition Mary was in. He had never seen her sick. She hadn't even caught the slightest bit of the Spanish Flu from her mother or Lavinia.

Upon thinking of Lavinia, he realized that he had told Mary that he loved her. He stopped moving. Had he meant it? He knew he did. But he also realized with a strange thought, he did not actually tell her, did he? It had been a dream. The Mary he knew wasn't chained to a rock in the middle of a turbulent ocean, now was she? She would not remember any of their encounters in that strange world because none of it had happened, had it? It had felt so real, the previous night as well.

He walked over to the inviting red sofa in the room and sat down with his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees and tried to quiet his mind. Was it even a dream? Was he going crazy from worry and jealousy? He thought of Lavinia and silently sent a heartfelt apology up to wherever the gentle girl was. He was sorry that he could not return her feelings. He felt that he could not repay her for what she had wanted to invest in him. How horribly he had treated her.

"Are you a creature of duty?"

Her sweet, slightly mocking but so very serious tone rang through his ears.

He closed his eyes tightly, throwing himself back violently into the soft cushions. Was he? The context seemed strangely as appropriate now as when those words had first been uttered to him so long ago.

His hands were caressed by the soft velvet of the cushions and he moved it slowly. The soothing fabric was a deep rich red and the black that filled his vision was soon permeated by such a deep color. Red like the pillows. Red like Lavinia's hair had been. Red like Mary's beautiful dress. Red like his hot blood coursing through his veins. He felt himself burning up, but could not find the energy to do anything to cool himself down. He let himself burn. He felt he deserved it. But he could not find a rational answer as to why.

He felt his passion for Mary and his guilt for Lavinia, for the dance and the kiss all boil up in the red whirlwind occurring before his closed eyes. He burned. He burned and burned away. He felt himself relaxing into the red vortex.

And although he could not hear it, the rushing started up again.

_There was to be more to this chapter, which will be added either later tonight or tomorrow, surrounding Mary being tormented by her memories and receiving a visitor. _

_Any guesses? (And don't give it away if you know it!) _

_I already have the plan, it all just needs to be typed up and realized. And, after such harsh criticisms about my detached characterization, I will not press on to such an emotional section while I'm so tired. _ _To the writer of the review, I have taken in what you have posted and will strive to live up to a better writing style._

_On another note entirely, I would like to direct you all to a wonderfully written story by a wonderful writer, ATudorRose's Forever Silent. It is THE most…I can't even begin to describe it. Read it! Just be sure to be emotionally prepared!_

_Until Next Time… _

_-Lady SM_


	5. In Which Lady SM Apologizes

Dear Reader,

I hope this will not come as too much of a disappointment to anyone of you, but this is not a real chapter, simply a letter from me to you.

I apologize for my inconsistent updates, and am just writing to tell you that I have at least three interesting chapters worth of writings in my notebook that have not been typed up and submitted because I have no time.

An unexpected bout of rehearsals for a performance taking up my next three nights has monopolized my time.

I have neither abandoned you or my story though, so I will update when I have time. I promise to update very soon. I am sorry for the obnoxicity of my busy life !

I promise with all my heart that when I do get time to post something, that it will be well worth the wait.

Yours always,

Lady SM


	6. In Which Visitors Drop by for Tea

So it's back

Thank ATudorRose for urging the procrastination train to a halt! Updates will return to a more regular pace. So sorry everyone!

Here we are…picks up where we left off those many years ago (haha jk but it sure feels like it…)

Please forgive my obnoxicity of absence

-Lady SM

The sea monster slept, its huge scaly body among the slimy, greasy weeds manifested along the muddy ocean floor, clouded by a strange twisted sense of peaceful discord.

Its huge nostrils flared as the mass rose and fell with the deep breaths it took. As it shifted, the scaly body glistened with a sheen similar to that of light reflecting on the surface of a puddle of oil. A couple of dark colored crab like creatures slowly scuttled across the giant tail and claws.

Everything was finally falling into place according to the monster's plans. He had the lovely princess in his grasp, and in her weak disposition he had been able to imprison her in a world of his own creation.

The giant head nestled down deeper into the mud and a smile crept across its serpentine face.

After Matthew's removal and the departure of her captor, Mary was left stranded; all alone with her thoughts.

Her head hung heavily, arms limp in their restraints, hair hanging down covering her eyes which were closed shut as if to protect herself from an unseen source of pain. Her mind restless, her breathing uneven, she broke out into a sweat. She raised her head slowly, her lips trembling.

A visitor met her weak gaze.

"You?" Mary whispered, surprised. "Here? Why?"

A charming smile passed over the handsome face of the creature in her midst.

"Ahhhh, Lady Mary," He purred. "How _have _you been?"

"Not so good, I'm afraid." She responded coolly.

"Can I do anything to help, my pet?" He asked, a hand caressing her weather-beaten cheek.

She pulled her face away from his touch and raised cold eyes to his dark inviting ones. "I want you to go away."

"Oh, but why _ever_ would you want that? Don't you think we get along quite well, pet?"

She slowly clenched her fists.

"I want you to go away." Mary repeated a bit more confidant now.

He stepped back. The calm, smooth face of Kemal Pamuk suddenly warped into a frown. Mary's eyes widened as the transformation continued. The lines deepened and contorted his beautiful face into a wrinkled hideous visage. His dark brown eyes turned hard and empty. His warm copper skin turned hard and a tint of stony grey spread its way across his changing features. As discolored spots began to blossom across mouth opened, stretching wide and as his teeth grew long and menacing, a shrill sound came from the depths of his throat.

Mary's face, painted with shock, scrunched up to avoid the penetrating noise. Opening her eyes again, she saw before her that his body had transformed into a pair of looming wings, making him like a bird with a menacing face of what Mary could only liken to a gargoyle like the ones that had frightened her as a child.

"You want me to leave?" The beast roared. ""You have created me. You have given me strength. I will never leave you."

The wings brought him closer and closer, until he hovered beside her. A claw plucked at her hair, taunting her.

"I am you. I am your sins. You will never be rid of ME!"

As Mary's tears rolled down her cheeks, the creature laughed, and the screeching noise echoed in the silence as he faded away in a dark eerily swirling mist, leaving her alone once more.

Matthew's head was spinning. He found himself lying down on the red couch from Downton's library, but the rest of his surroundings consisted of the swirling dark browns and reds and golds of the room; nothing else was stable. He closed his eyes and shook his head, hoping for everything to settle. Upon opening them, he gasped.

Before him stood his former fiancé. He could not doubt that the vision before him was his own Lavinia Swire.

She grinned slightly at his bemused expression before greeting him.

"Hello, Matthew." She said, her soft voice reaching Matthew as would a gentle summer breeze.

"Lavinia." He breathed, his self-reprimanding for doing this sweet soul so much wrong in her lifetime, and certainly after temporarily forgotten; he was not immune to the calming effect of her presence.

He attempted to rise, but faltered at the raising of her dainty hand in protest. He returned to the comfort of the lovely velvet cushions. She sat back and a simple yet elegant white chair was conjured up behind her with perfect timing.

"Now, Matthew," She began, in a conversational tone. "Tell me what's been bothering you."

She sat with an elbow on either arm of the small chair, chin rested on her clasped hands, eagerly awaiting his response. Matthew briefly chuckled in spite of his emotional distress at the frankness of the situation.

"Where do I begin?" He said incredulously, feeling surprisingly comfortable speaking to this creature.

"At the risk of sounding a bit conceited, let's start with me, shall we?" She said, again, getting right to the point. "How do you feel about me, Matthew? About my death. About my love for you."

Matthew looked at his companion with sad eyes. His strikingly blue, expressive eyes showed all the self-blame surrounding her demise.

"Hmmm." Lavinia said thoughtfully, as if she were responding to something he had spoken aloud. "You think it was your fault."

"It was both of us. But it was my fault. You saw…you shouldn't have seen…I shouldn't have… danced…Mary and I…" he trailed off, hands in his hair, head bent down in shame.

He felt a gentle, warm, reassuring hand on his shoulder and he looked up.

"I let you down. I did not return the love…_your_ love, your trust. " He went on.

She smiled sadly at him and nodded for him to continue.

"I love Mary—"

"As well you should!" She cut him off. "Lady Mary Crawley does not have the kind of relationship she has with you with anyone else. You two have an extraordinary connection, which even you cannot deny."

"I suppose we do." Matthew said. The soft, gentle girl continued.

"Then why haven't you been together since I gave you the chance?"

"I…"

"Yes, Matthew?"

"It would've been wrong." He turned slightly away from her honest face.

"Really, Matthew, it was wrong to keep you two apart. After a while even I could see it. I tried to explain that to you."

"I didn't think that was coming from your heart, Lavinia. I was…hurt. I…I thought it was coming from a place of doubt with me. I wanted to be good enough for you."

She saw how difficult this was for him and searched his face.

"Matthew, you are one of the sweetest, most genuine people I had the honor to know so well in my time on earth. In this sincerity, however you might wish it, you cannot change the way you feel."

"But I…" He lowered his head, eyes searching the floor.

"You need to learn how to embrace the truth, Matthew." She said, raising his head slightly by the chin. "You need to let go."

"But Sir Richard…" He began.

"Matthew, go to her again with the knowledge that trust in each other's love and forgiveness for past mistakes can get you through anything."

"Lavinia, I'm so…sorry."

As he fought to hold back the tears, he felt her take his trembling hands in her own. A comforting warmth spread through his distraught body. With a smile, she continued.

"I would never want to hold back others from happiness, Matthew. Please do not allow me to do so, even in death."

And with another sad smile, she began fading away, whispering:

"There is no greater weapon for the two of you than the Truth."

She finally disappeared completely, leaving Matthew alone on the sofa, looking off into the spot where she had been just a moment before, the last words echoing in the still silence of the room.

"The Truth…"

Any requests and or ideas and or comments and or annnnnything would be great what are your thoughts? Thanks for reading!

-Lady SM


	7. In Which Much Happens

"The Truth…"

"_But what could she mean?" _Matthew thought,_ " What am I hiding?"_

As Matthew felt the spirit of his former fiancé drift away from him, he closed his eyes. Upon opening them, he found himself on the cliff he had just been flung off of, a good climbing distance below where Mary was being held. He joyfully called up to her.

"Lady Mary, I've safely returned, and this time I'm taking you back with me."

He placed a foot in t a crevice on the wall, testing it out.

"Matthew, go away, please."

To say he was surprised by her response was an understatement. The tone of her voice was once again that of the defeated victim. But now, it seemed, she had descended even deeper into self-pity. Had his previous failure brought this on?

"Mary, I—"

"There's nothing her for you, Cousin Matthew. You'd be doing us both a favor if you just gave up this silly shot at playing hero."

He rcomments stung, but they made Matthew more confused than upset. He mounted the wall, a bit more sure of himself having found it secure, and began to climb. It was no easy feat, but he pressed on.

"Matthew, did you just hear what I said?"

"Well, I suppose I did, My Lady, but I've learned never to believe the things you say." He retorted with a sly grin as he pulled himself over the top of the ledge and came over to her face to face, meeting a pained expression.

"Mary, I love you." He said, placing hands on her cheeks, looking deeply into her eyes. She rolled her eyes right back at him, but instead of the usual disdain, there was a glimmer of fear reflected in the deep chestnut.

"Matthew, you're being ridiculous."

He did not break his gaze.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me, Mary."

" I can't."

"Then I don't see the problem here,-" He let his hands drop, exasperated.

"I can't love you, Matthew." She exclaimed, cutting him off. There was a sense of urgency in her eyes that he could not comprehend.

She finally met his eyes.

"And why ever not?" He demanded, getting worked up at the absurd turn of events.

"Mary—"

She shook her head violently and pleadingly searched his eyes.

"I will never be good enough for you, Matthew. You were right; we are cursed. Nothing can change that."

A shrill cackle was faintly heard by the pair as a black mist picked up, swirling around Mary, forming a tangible boundary between them. The windy vortex began to pick up small stones and fling them every which way, forcing Matthew to take a few steps back.

But this time Matthew would not give up. He found himself raising his voice to be heard over the wind, determined to get through to her.

"Mary, you can't really believe that. You of all people taught me about change in this world. We cannot anticipate the things life throws at us, and you can do one of two things- "

Bracing himself, he took a difficult, defiant step towards the storm surrounding the girl.

Within the swirling depths of her self-made prison of guilt and shame, Mary's head was lowered and the vicious winds whipped her hair across her face. Her cuffed hands were balled tightly in fists.

"One of two things, Mary, are you listening to me? You can either let yourself become a pawn in the universe's games, or you can fight, Mary."

The winds began to whip at Matthew, but he persisted. It began to tear at his shirt, ripping it violently to shreds, only to be carried away by the wind itself. His exposed skin began to take the force of the storm. He took step after painful step towards Mary, battling every nerve in his body to do so.

He made his way to through the wall of ripping wind and clung to the rock. He looked over at her with eyes squinted against the gales and saw that Mary was in just as much pain as he was. The storm was as if emotions and stress were being ripped out of her and put on display.

"Mary," he yelled, "Stop this. Please."

She looked at him with hesitance and pain shown in her eyes.

"We can fight this, Mary, whatever it is."

She closed her eyes as if fighting an immense force from within herself. Slowly, the winds began to quiet and die down."

Matthew stayed quiet as she battled with her demons. As the last of the wind subsided, she turned to him.

"How…how can we fight our pasts?" She asked in a sorrowful voice.

For a moment, his mouth hung open. Then, the realization struck.

"There is no greater weapon for us," he said looking into her eyes again, making sure she heard each word, "…but the Truth."

She looked at him searchingly for a long moment. Then nodded her head in agreement.

"All right." She began slowly, trying to assume the perfect wording, "Matthew, do you remember a Mr. Pamuk that came to stay at Downton for a while, so many years ago?"

"It's hard to forget a guest who dies in their bed, now isn't it, Mary?"

"That's just it…" The graveness of her voice catching him off guard. "He didn't die in his own bed. He…well, he died in mine."

"But why would he be—"

"He came to me that night. He took me as his lover."

A horrible silence came after this confession. She watched for his reaction, but he turned away, taking a few paces away from her.

He suddenly turned and looked at her with a look of anger, confusion and a little disgust.

"Did you love him?"

She looked at his accusatory expression, shocked, and a bit hurt, but mostly ashamed.

"No." She looked down at the ground, "It was lust Matthew, a need for…excitement—"

"And what of your feelings for me?" he demanded. "How do you know I'm not just a…a passing fad." He spat out.

"Oh, Matthew, don't you see?" She burst out, "Without that experience I would not value love as I do now. I could not love you without having made this mistake first. What we have is real. And why it wouldn't have worked before."

They both thought back to the horrible way they had settled the proposal.

He exhaled audibly and, still steaming, turned away again and sat down, facing out to the sea.

Mary studied his back. She observed every muscle that stretched across his shoulders as he tried to slow his breathing to a normal speed and frequency. She glanced longingly at the toned arms and hoped this wouldn't be the last time she would see him like this. What if her confession had ruined everything. What if—her thinking ceased as he fell backwards with a thud, lying on his back, looking up at her with a slight grin.

"I don't fully understand your reasoning, my dear, but if it works for you, it works for me. I cannot doubt you are not a different person now than you were when that hormonal Turk came to visit." He said, and a smile blossomed on Mary's face to match the one on Matthew's face.

"Well, well, well, It would ssssseem that you have a visssitorrr, my dearessst." The couple heard the monster spat out. "Now, you sssneaky tramp, what did I tell you about that?" It raged.

All of a sudden the sea monster's scaly body was propelled out of the sea and onto the rock in front of Mary. On all fours, it crouched like a tiger stalking its prey. Before Matthew could sit up, it pounced.

"Fight it, Matthew!" Mary screamed out to him, resisting against her restraints.

Mary looked on in awe as the monster jumped back. Matthew rose yielding a shining sword with the Grantham crest on the handle.

"Fit for a future Earl, wouldn't you say, my dear," He cockily added to Mary before the beast lunged again.

They went back and forth between each other for a while, Matthew's sword being a bit slow to strike, it being so heavy the beast saw the blows coming and had to slither away. But while slithering away, one cannot strike out. Mary could not look away from the fight in front of her, desperate to help Matthew in any way she could, but helpless against the metal chains.

In a flash, the beast flung some kicked up dirt into Matthew's face and scuttled away over to Mary. He held a claw up to her throat.

"You leave now or ssssshe diessss." It threatened menacingly, a wicked smile twisting across its thin lips, obviously feeling triumphant.

"Matthew—" Mary tried to croak out, but the jagged claw was pressed closer, crushing her windpipe.

Matthew sized up the situation in an instant, a glint of something Mary had never seen flashed in his eyes.

Without any warning, he flung his weapon straight into the beast's chest.

It fell to the rock floor with a thud, gasping for breath for a moment before attempting to scramble back to its feet.

Matthew strode over, took the sword out, and jabbed it back in again, digging the blade into the scaly torso. Blood began to seep out, pooling on the ground around the massive fallen creature.

Matthew backed away from it and the two watched as it flailed and tried to lift its wounded body up from the ground, only to slip in the liquid flowing from its own body and fall, ungracefully, painfully, inevitably, over the side of the cliff.

"How was that for a son of a god?" Matthew asked cheekily, turning to her.

"Much more appropriate, wouldn't you agree?" She said, smiling.

Mustering up as much strength as he could after the battle, Matthew turned slowly and, with a determined look upon his brow, raised his arms above his head and brought the heavy sword down.

The blade colliding with the shackles, breaking them with a loud clang that echoed in the lovers' ears. With a gasp at the reinstatement of gravity upon her body, she slumped. Letting the sword drop to the ground, Matthew gathered her form up in his arms and righted her, strong hands on her upper arms, giving her the support she needed.

She looked up into his smiling, dirty face, saw the windswept blond hair in a state that would never be acceptable back home.

A smile came to her lips. Who was she to judge another's appearance at the moment? She thankfully did not have a mirror with her to check her reflection, but knew she must look a fright, indeed.

"My little storm braver, that's what you are." Mathew said as he brushed a few strands of hair out of Mary's blood and tear streaked face.

They looked deeply into each other's eyes, and the passion that they had for each other, built up over the last couple of years, the desire that pooled up since the day that they had met, built up into the kiss that they shared now.

All of a sudden the air was filled with the loud screech of a dying terror. Mary heard a loud sound that she could only liken to the cracking of a whip.

She then felt Matthew grow tense beneath her arms. Her eyes flew open in time to see Matthew's own blue eyes rolling back into his head. His body went limp and he began to fall backwards.

The monster, with the last of its breath, had stricken a fatal blow to its opponent.

"You will be mine alwaysss…"

Holding a claw to the bloody hole in its chest, it now fell, claws dislodging their places dug deep into the cliff's face, the huge, scaly body hit the water with a loud crash. The ocean hissed and seethed swallowing up what was left of the horrible being. The monster was defeated.

Back up on the cliff, Mary dragged him over to the rock wall that she had been chained to and collapsed to the ground. She positioned Matthew as best as she could, clinging to him, his head resting on her chest. She could feel his heartbeat slowing.

As she looked down at the face of her savior, her love, her body began trembling uncontrollably, but she refused to cry.

She closed her eyes tightly and held him close. She began to sing to him softly a song that had brought him back to her form beyond the grave and back to her once before.

Her smooth, pleading voice was mournful and full of immense sadness. The ocean and winds died down to a gentle lull. Slowly, she began.

"_Sometimes when I feel down, and things look…blue…"_

She paused. Her breathing became heavy. The tears came, brimming her eyes, catching in her throat, but still she sang.

"_I think of a pal I had, say one like you…"_

She brushed a few pieces of shaggy, dirty, matted blonde hair away from his face.

She shut her eyes. She couldn't go on.

She broke down and wept freely.

The winds and ocean lulled down to a hush, her crying being the only sound to be heard, reverberating off of the rocks, her frail form shuddering violently with each sob.

At last, she steadied her breathing, and brought herself to open her eyes again to focus on the chest barely rising and falling.

Opening her mouth, she continued haltingly, choking on emotion, an eerie sound.

"_If you were the only…boy in the world, and I was the only-"_

She watched his faltering chest still and finished barely even in a whisper:

"…_girl."_

…_._

**All right…So very, very sorry for the wait. I've had absolutely no time whatsoever to get down to writing this, but there will be a final post tomorrow and this story will be finished with **

**I sincerely hope you're not all too cross with me. I know how many readers put this story on alert, I just hope this action packed and suspenseful chapter delivers **

**I love you for reading this!**

**-A Very Ashamed Lady SM**


	8. In Which All is Well

**Here we are, the end of my little tale **

**Happy Reading!**

**-Lady SM**

…

Mary woke slowly and she had to blink a couple of times before it registered in her mind: she was home.

She was no longer stranded, forlornly chained to a rock, her hands glided across the familiar sheets she knew belonged to one of the guest beds.

Sir Richard Carlisle spun around from his spot of looking out the window overlooking the spacious grounds below. But his eyes, she observed, were not focused on the beauty of the gardens that the window presented a wonderful view of, but off into the clear, blue, cloudless sky. Mary rolled her eyes. This man was too dull.

She rolled out from under the covers and sat on the edge of her bed.

At the noise of the rustling sheets, Sir Richard turned and addressed her.

"Oh, well, it's about time you got up. I had to reschedule out appointment with the wedding planner because you felt it more important to catch up on your beauty sleep."

She looked the biting, passive-aggressive man cooly in the face.

"Where's Matthew?"

He turned away and began to pace anxiously about the room.

"Oh of course you would worry about him. There are more important things to turn your attention to, Mary.

"We're finished Richard. I expect you'll be gone by lunchtime. I'll tell my family you said goodbye."

As an odd red coloring began to rise up from his tightly collared neck to his ears, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but the cool, collected and prepared Mary cut him off.

"Oh, now, don't go making a scene, my dear Sir. We wouldn't want this to be too messy, now do we?"

And as if in a dream, she walked right past him and out of the door, off to find Matthew.

…

As Mary came reached the landing of the main staircase on the ground level floor, she caught a glimpse of the retreating form of Mrs. Hughes and called her away from whatever errand she was running.

"Mrs. Hughes, do you know where Matthew's gotten to?"

"Oh, Lady Mary," the kind woman replied, attentively, "I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

"Yes, thank you, but I must find Matthew."

"Well, O'Brien claims she saw him barricade himself in the library earlier today and no one's seen anything of him since."

"Thank you." She turned to go.

"Oh, I am to tell you or Mr. Carlisle that the wedding planner called back to reschedule and said tomorrow will be fine—"

"Oh do call her back and tell her it won't be necessary. I for one will not be planning a wedding with that man a day longer." Lady Mary said happily.

"And what of Mr. Carlisle?" Mrs. Hughes asked, startled.

"Well, we won't be seeing much of him anymore."

"Now, I know it's not my place, Milady, but I for one am very glad to hear that bit of news." Mrs. Hughes said confidentially, sporting a big grin.

…

Pushing open the closed door leading to her father's library, a small smile temporarily flashed across her features when she was greeted by his sleeping form reclining on the red velvet sofa, but the happiness disappears when she remembers his recent actions and the outcome of the battle.

She rushed over to him and took him up in her lap, assuming a position very similar to that which they had just been in in whatever dream world their adventure had just taken place in.

She felt his chest, searched for a rise and fall, but despairingly, no movement was to be seen. Matthew's limp form was held close to Mary's body, desperately hoping for any form of movement; none came.

She closed her eyes and lowered her head. He was gone. She had lost him for good this time. He had survived his fight, but no one could survive the cold and cruel Lady Mary-

Her rambling thoughts came to a rushing halt as.

From her lap came the most wonderful sound Mary had ever heard:

"_I would say such wonderful things to you…"_

Her eyes flew open hopefully and was greeted with bright blue staring lovingly back up at her.

Overjoyed, she joined in

"_We would have such wonderful things to do."_

Tears of joy began to well up in her eyes, and Matthew reached up to wipe them away. He sang to her:

"_If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only—"_

Cutting him off, she leaned down and passionately kissed him.

…

**Well, there we have it **

**I hope everyone who put this story on their alerts enjoyed how everything turned out. I certainly did!**

**Thank you for taking the time to read this!**

**-Lady Sea Monster**


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